I Don't Know How To Talk To You
by BeccyTheChopper
Summary: In which Dean and Cas are in love, and on the track of a powerful demon who just happens to be somebody we know and love and bad stuff happens. Gets pretty dark in places but hey it is Jim, so... Sorry, I suck at summaries, just, please, read it and enjoy?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: The inspiration for this fic hit me at school a while back, and I just had to write it. **

**Disclaimer: These characters ARE NOT mine. Because if they were… well, I think you guys know what I'd do with them.**

**I have tried to write about places which actually exist, using the magic of the internet, but as I've never even been to America, let alone the places mentioned, there's a limit to what I can do, and descriptions etc. are based completely on my imagination, or pictures I manage to find… Anyway I've rambled on enough. Hope you enjoy it!**

Dean frowned, swearing softly under his breath. Big Falls, Minnesota was crawling with omens; missing persons, lightning strikes, and cattle mutilations. There was something here, something big, maybe even too big. He looked across at Sam, hunched over his laptop.

"You got anything?"

Sam shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing yet. I can't trace the demon. Whoever it is, they're good."

Dean sighed, and looked at the ceiling. "Cas, wherever you are, we could sure use your help." He looked at Sam and shrugged. "Worth a shot, right?" Cas hadn't been there, not any of the times he'd called, not even at the vamp nest in Oregon, when Sam had nearly died... Dean shook himself, pulling himself from his train of thought, unsurprised to see his angel hadn't showed himself.

"Guess I'll hit the town; see what I can dig up from the locals."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You mean you're going to a bar."

Dean shrugged, and pulled his jacket on, looking back at Sam and grinning. "Same thing."

Big Falls was a relatively small place, and was named after the nearby waterfalls on the Big Fork River. It was quiet, the suffocating sense of something and the disappearances having had an effect on the low population of 200- odd residents. Dean couldn't think for a minute why something as powerful as whatever was here had chosen such a small place, but he figured they had their reasons.

In contrast, the J&J Corner bar was lively enough, the regulars clearly not being put off by some missing people, and an odd pressure in the air. The place was massive, from the outside appearing in to have been converted from an old barn, as the area was mostly agricultural. He smiled wryly at an advertising sign outside, proclaiming that the bar 'Welcomed Hunters'. Not his kind, obviously.

He took a seat behind the bar stool, shivering slightly at the oppressive atmosphere, which was only slightly dulled by the warm lighting, the comforting smell of beer, and sounds of people around him. He forced a bright smile at the waitress behind the bar. She was blonde and curvy and just his type, but he felt nothing for her.

"Can I help you?" When she spoke, her voice was like honey, but it didn't affect Dean. It was too bright, and too false, and he found part of him thinking it was too feminine. He cut that train of thought before it could even get started.

"Just a lemonade please." He held up his badge. "Working."

The waitress smiled softly. "So, I assume you're here about the missing people. Didn't realize the Feds would care."

Dean grinned. "It… came up. Anything you can tell me?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. But all four of the victims came here, as I'm sure you know, Detective. I'd assume that's why you're here."

Somebody walked past, and realization dawned on her face, she leaned forward conspiratorially. "There is this one thing though. They both talked to that guy the day they disappeared. " She nodded toward the figure. A small man in a suit, dark hair, pale skin, and huge, dark eyes, he looked so out of place in the bar, but walked with a confidence that only came with masses of power. Dean nodded his thanks at the waitress, and made his way over.

He took a seat opposite the guy, who had by now sat down and was tapping away on his phone, leaning against another man, who was tall (almost Sam-tall), intimidatingly muscled with longish dirty blonde hair and a scar over one eye. He smiled politely, and pulled out his badge, ignoring a strong sense of wrongness that washed over him in his presence.

"Excuse me, but I have a few questions. The lovely lady by the bar said you could help me."

The guy didn't even look up. "Liar." His voice was soft, and his accent was faintly Irish.

Dean stiffened. "I'm sorry-"

He was cut off. "You're no fed, it's obvious." The man finally glanced up. "Oh. Dean. You took your time." He smiled softly at the man he was leaning against. "He's cuter in person, don't you think, Sebby?"

'Sebby' played it off casually, rolling his eyes, but Dean noticed his gaze darken slightly. The words caught up to Dean. He had so hoped this would be an easy chat, but when was anything ever easy? "So you've heard of me. And you would be…?"

The small man smiled. "That isn't something you really need to worry about, dear." His eyes flashed black. Dean sighed softly.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered softly. He hadn't even got to enjoy his drink.

The small man smirked. "She was, rather. Anyway, I'm feeling quite nice right now, and I don't want to mess up my… plans, so I'm giving you the chance to leave. But do be aware that if you don't back off, if you don't stop prying, I will burn you." His soft lilt took on a dark, cold, menacing edge that chilled Dean to the core. His mouth tightened darkly.

"If you think I'm just going to walk away from this, then you clearly have no idea who I am after all."

The man just smiled cruelly. "You will walk away from this, Dean. And you will not mention this to your brother, because if you do, I may get tempted to end him. And your precious little angel."

Dean glowered, his heart pounding, and mouth going dry, protests that Cas wasn't his, and that it wasn't like that dying on his lips as he stood and stalked out, growling. No son of a bitch threatened the people he cared about and got away with it. He would stop this bastard, whatever it took.

A few hours later, Dean was sprawled on his bed, scowling. He was trying to figure this out by himself, and it really wasn't working. His head ached, and his mouth was dry, and he sighed. Being overtired wasn't going to help anything. Sam had gone out to the library to research local lore, and look into the past of the town in case there was anything that this demon could want, and he hadn't had the chance to speak to him. He looked at the ceiling, blankly, not seeing the cracks in the plaster. "Castiel, I know you don't want to talk, or whatever, but there's something going on, and I have a really bad feeling about this."

He hadn't expected a response, and he wasn't disappointed. He squashed down the little spark of worry, the thought that Cas has never been out of touch this long. What if something happened? He sighed softly, and stretched out on the bed, the mattress too firm and lumpy, and the cheap cotton of the sheets feeling scratchy under his skin, waiting to doze off.

Sleep didn't come to Dean for a long time, and when it did, it wasn't peaceful. His dreams were a bleary mix of fear and panic, running from something. When he woke, panting, it was to one of Sam's worried frowns, and a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, it's okay. It was just a dream."

Dean scowled, pulling away from the hand, as the last strains of his dream disappeared into his subconscious.

"Yeah, man. I'm fine."

Sam frowned, unconvinced, his lips pursing. "You want to talk about it?"

Dean stood, straightening his clothes out and glaring back at him. "Stop fussing. I said I'm fine."

Sam looked at him, worried, as Dean made his way into the bathroom to shower and change, determined to find out something. He forced a smile at Sam.

"I was thinking maybe I should go to the library today instead. You should do some research here." Dean tried to keep his voice calm, and reasonable, but it was so unlike him that Sam frowned suspiciously, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Really?" His tone was disbelieving.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. I'm climbing the walls in here, man. Plus, I heard the librarian's hot." The lie slid smoothly off his tongue, and from Sam's irritated eye roll, he bought it. That way, he'd stay in the relative safety of the motel where he could at least access their weapons.

Dean pulled his train of thought away from one that would have him fussing the whole time, and slipped a gun into the waistband of his jeans, winking at Sam on the way out the door, before he slid behind the wheel of his Impala, running his hands reverently over the dashboard, before he pulled away, keeping to his story and driving to the library.

He made his way to the desk, wrinkling his nose a little at the state of the building, but in a town like this, you wouldn't expect the upkeep of the library to be the most important thing. And he was right, the librarian was hot. But he felt nothing other than the recognition of that fact. No stirring of an arousal, no urge to flirt. He was starting to worry about himself.

Still, he took one for the team, and smiled at her, turning his charm up.

"Hey, I'm new to the area, and I'm just fascinated by finding out about the local history, so I was wondering if you had any archives of the town or anything?"

She raised a surprised eyebrow, and nodded. "Yes, as it happens, we do. They're in the back; would you like me to show you?"

Dean sent another charming smile her way. "Sure thing, sweetheart, I'd love you to."

Dean followed the woman behind the counter, and down a corridor, into a small room piled high with dusty boxes, but as he turned to thank her, things went south.

She flashed him a cold smile, and shut the door, locking it behind her, as her eyes went black.

Dean swore softly, under his breath, as he forced a smile. "Hey, darling, if you wanted a little privacy, you should've just asked, we could have gone back to my place."

She shoved him back against a tower of boxes, and he continued, even though he was winded.

"Although, I'm not so sure. You're coming on a bit too strong for my tastes."

He scowled, and reached for his gun, although he knew it would do no good, only to find himself pinned. He couldn't move, and sent out a desperate plea.

"Cas, if you can hear me, I really fucking need you right now."

The door to the room burst open, from a kick, and Dean fell to the floor in a heap, as he looked up- part of him thinking it was Castiel. He was almost disappointed to see Sam there.

"Hey, Sammy. You certainly took your time."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Sam took advantage of the small space, slamming the, now broken, door shut behind him. An exorcism flowed fast and smooth from his tongue, and the demon was expelled with an unearthly shriek, leaving the demon's vessel intact.

Dean gaped. "Dude. You been memorizing that, or what?"

Sam lifted a shoulder, embarrassed, and reached out to help Dean up. With a soft, concerned frown, he knelt down next to the woman, whose eyes were wide.

"I- I was just… this morning... I…"

"Hey, ma'am, it's okay. We know this is a lot to take in right now, but take a couple of deep breaths."

She stuttered out a few half formed protests, before gripping Dean's arm. "It… that thing. It was after you. I remember everything, I was awake the whole time. There was a man, more than a man… a name that nobody says."

Dean frowned, irritated at her need to be so cryptic. "What name?"

She took a deep breath, looking around. "Moriarty."

Dean sucked in a breath, cold suddenly flooding through him. "And something else. There was… they have a prisoner. A man in a trench coat. The… I looked in on him a couple times. He knew I was awake, wanted me to get a message to you. He said… he said be careful. He said that this was bigger than anything you've ever faced before, and to forget about him. Do what he says a back off. Run."

Dean's eyes widened, and he felt his heart lurch. "That two timing double crossing bastard. He already took Cas. Fuck. Who knows how long for? This whole thing, all of it, is some kind of sick fucking game."

Sam frowned at him, his gaze confused, and Dean realized how little he actually knew. Dean looked down at the woman, forcing a soft smile, even as his heart pumped angrily. They were going to take this bastard down. Period.

"I'll explain later, Sammy." He turned to the woman, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Come on. We'll get you home, huh?"

Surprisingly, the woman shook her head. "No, it's fine. I've got tons of inventory work to be getting on with. Yeah, that thing did some bad stuff. But I can cope."

Dean looked across at Sam, who shrugged, and gave the woman his puppy dog stare. "That's okay. If that's what you want. But, look. Here's our number. If you ever need us, for anything, call."

Dean backed Sam up with a forced smile, before practically dragging Sam out into the parking lot and to the Impala. The tension built in the drive back to the motel, and once they were safely inside, Dean couldn't stand it anymore. He sighed loudly, turning to his brother. "Right. I know. We need to talk, Sammy."

Sam pulled a face. "About all the crap you haven't told me, or about how freaking weird you've been acting lately? Because I feel like I don't even know you anymore, Dean!"

Dean shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the accusation. He had been acting oddly, not really going out any more. He clenched his jaw, and prepared an angry retort, but the look of concern on Sam's face floored him, and he gave his brother a chance to speak.

"You don't go out any more, Dean. You hardly eat, or talk. Something's ragging on you, man, and all I know is the last time you were like this was after Bobby..." Sam trailed off, clearing his throat, and Dean fought back the wave of pain that always accompanied thoughts of the old hunter. "Anyway, my point is that whatever's up with you must be serious."

Dean shrugged dismissively. "Whatever, Sammy. We get this case done, we find Cas and then I promise you and I will have a nice long chat about my feelings."

Dean could see Sam's reluctance to drop it, but he knew that his brother was aware this was miles better than what he normally got.

He started the engine of his baby with a cold grin. "C'mon. Let's go deal with whatever bastard took Cas." Dean felt a surge of protective anger. If they'd hurt him... He also felt a swell of guilt. He'd been blaming Cas for not showing up; when in actuality he was probably being horrifically tortured. He forced himself to breathe slowly as his hands inadvertently tightened on the wheel. He glanced over at Sam. "Basically, the woman back there was working for someone. Someone big. And he wants me out of the picture. Said he'd hurt you and Cas if I didn't. But I figure since he's gone ahead and done that anyway, to hell with it."

Sam frowned. "Someone big? Dean, that's not very specific."

Dean scowled. "I know. I guess we'd better see if Garth can dig anything up. We have a name, at least. Moriarty."

Sam sighed softly. "Yeah. I'll get right on that. You should see if you can find anything out online." Dean nodded as he pulled his laptop from his bag.

The time dragged on as Sam made his call, and, when it proved fruitless, settled down to research himself. The thing about research is that it's really hard when there's no information out there to go through.

After a good few hours of false hopes and dead ends, when all Dean had gained was a crick in his neck and a frustrated little brother, he went back over the map he'd plotted of the places the people had last been seen. He noticed that they all seemed too close. Pulling out a pencil, he quickly joined each plotted point with its opposite.

They all crossed at a centre point. "Sammy. C'mere. I think I got something." He showed Sam the map, and pointed at the place that they crossed.

Sam frowned softly. "It's an apartment building. Hold on." He returned to his laptop and searched the address, speaking again after a few minutes. "So get this, a guy went missing from here exactly a year ago today. A guy named Rich Brook, an artist. Mean anything to you?" Dean shrugged, and made his way over to look at the missing persons file, and stopped dead.

"Sammy, that's him. That's the vessel. God damn." The picture in the file tugged at Dean's heartstrings a little. Instead of being clothed in a dark suit, the man was in an oversized cardigan, his eyes were wide and vulnerable, instead of empty, and his hair was a mess, sticking up in all angles in a way that reminded him of Castiel…

He sighed. "Poor bastard. Getting tangled up in all this bullshit. It isn't fair."

Sam smiled sympathetically at him, and Dean scowled back. "Shut up, Samantha." He simply raised an eyebrow in response.

"I didn't say anything."

Dean's scowl deepened. "You were thinking it."

Rolling his eyes, Sam stood, stretching until his shoulders popped. "Dude. Let's go." Dean stood with a grin, and shrugged his jacket on, starting up the Impala, and beginning the, thankfully, short drive to the apartment building.

When they'd eventually gotten past the security and had a momentary argument about which was the right flat (Sam was right, the bastard), they stood outside flat 221B. Sam was keeping a lookout while Dean picked the lock, because he was _better_ at it, and then the pick slid home and they were in. As they stepped inside and took a cautious look around, Dean was surprised to see obvious signs nobody had been in there. Then again, something as big as a disappearance in a town this small, it made sense that nobody would move in.

They looked around, until he heard Sam call from the bedroom. "Dean! C'mere!"

He made his way into the room, where he found Sam rummaging through his drawers. "Dude, gross. What'd you find?"

Sam held up a map, where several barns and buildings had been marked with a red cross, and one which had been marked much more recently in black. He took a closer look at the road name, a pained gasp slipping through his lips at the name.

Sam looked at him in concern. "Dean? What is it?"

Dean pointed at the one with the black cross, shutting his eyes and hoping it would disappear. "Angel Crescent. That's where he's got Cas." Sam looked at him for a moment, then folded the map and tucked it in his pocket, taking care to leave everything else as it was, since somebody had clearly been in here after all.

They were rushed in their journey back to the car, and Dean completely ignored the speed limit on his drive to Angel Crescent. They were going to get Cas.

When they arrived, it was a simple suburban house, white picket fence and perfectly manicured lawn included. Dean shivered, the tense atmosphere crawling unpleasantly along his spine.

As they made their way up to the door, Dean dug in his pocket for the lock pick, but it opened of its own accord, and he looked at Sam for a long moment. "This was way too easy, don't you think?"

Sam nodded, but Castiel was in there, so he stepped through the doorway anyway and Sam followed.

They edged their way around the building, guns drawn, and after they'd given it the all-clear they both stood outside the door to the storage room, Dean's hand on the handle.

He locked eyes with Sam, who nodded as he pulled it open and guns drawn, they descended the stairs. Dean snapped out of his carefully constructed façade of calm as soon as he saw Castiel slumped in a chair and, ignoring Sam's warning, he ran over to the angel's side, tears slipping unbidden down his face. "Cas?"

The angel didn't stir, and Dean sucked in a shocked breath as he drew closer, now able to see the bloodstains on his clothes and hear his laboured breathing.

At least he _was_ breathing.

He laid a hand on his face, now able to see sigils painted all over the room, connecting together in a dizzying web that centred beneath Castiel.

He stepped gingerly over them after that, aware that he could scuff them and do untold damage. He didn't want to hurt Cas. Any worse than he already was, at least.

"Cas, buddy? You okay?" But it was a futile attempt, even as he laid his hand on Castiel's shoulder he knew he was out. He turned back to Sam, who was frowning in concern at them.

They both heard the footsteps too late, turning to see Moriarty coming down the steps with a cold smile. "Dean. It's so nice to see you again. Count yourself lucky, you know, not many people get to survive their first time meeting me."

Dean tried to swallow his anger, knowing it would do him no good, and took a few deep breaths. He glanced at Sam, who looked visibly unsettled around this man, and he smiled thinly.

"Yeah. Got to say I'm honoured. But I doubt even you could resist my charm and good looks." His muscles twitched with the urge to _do something_, make him pay for what he'd done to Castiel, but Dean had no doubt that the other man was just behind him.

Moriarty laughed, and it was cold and cruel, yet filled with a disturbing manic glee, and Dean shifted uncomfortably, unwittingly shifting closer to Castiel.

"Darling, you'll want to watch those sigils. Place a foot wrong, and you'll destroy your little boyfriend." He could practically feel Sam's look of smugness, before he snapped back to the situation.

"I've got to be honest, though; I didn't really expect you to find him so fast. I'm almost impressed, Dean. You Winchester's are clearly more intelligent than you look. Crowley was right about not underestimating you."

Dean stiffened, glowering. "Crowley? You know that son of a bitch?"

Moriarty's answering smile was sly and dark, and the way his eyes remained dead was more than disturbing.

"Know him? Honey, he's one of my best."

Dean frowned confused, and studied him carefully. "One of… _your_?"

"Dean. You didn't really think an arrogant, unintelligent low-level demon like him could _actually_ run Hell, did you? He's just my voice. Everything that he did was simply as I instructed him. It's a nice little setup. No-one ever gets to me. And no-one ever will."

Dean scowled at that. "I did."

Moriarty's smirk brightened slightly. "You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

Dean smirked, cocky bravado coming to the forefront to cover the fact that all he wanted to do was grab his angel and run, nurse him back to health and never let him out of his sight again. "Thank you."

Moriarty's voice come out scathing, yet still with a sweet, playful edge to it that set Dean on edge. "I didn't mean it as a compliment."

Dean's smirk only grew. "Yes you did." He snuck a glance at Sam who was very clearly thinking, his eyes narrowed at Moriarty, and running over the sigils, trying to place them.

Moriarty rocked onto the balls of his feet, shrugging his shoulders in an odd, almost endearing manner. "Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Dean. Daddy's had enough now!" His voice rang out shrill, the pitch changing drastically in a sing-song way that could only be described as unhinged. "I have loved it, though. This little game of ours. Haven't you?"

Dean scowled, his simmering anger finally bubbling to the surface. "You bastard! Let Cas go, _tell me what you've done to him_! You said you wouldn't hurt him, as long as I backed off!"

Moriarty laughed then, a childish giggle so at odds with his personality. "But you didn't, did you? Do you know what happens, if you don't leave me alone? To you?"

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes, to cover the thinly veiled panic rising inside him. "Oh, let me guess, I get killed? Well let me tell you something, buddy. Been there, done that. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory? None of them want to keep me."

He laughed again, his eyes sparking with something like amusement. "Kill you? N-no, don't be obvious." His voice curled around the last word in disgust. "If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." His voice turned cold and hard, and his gaze was alternating between Sam and Castiel, and Dean had no illusions as to his threat.

He inclined his head slightly, deciding that maybe he'd be best off living to fight another day on this one. After all, Cas was his priority now, and he needed to get him out of here.

Moriarty smirked, as if he sensed Dean's change of heart, and he straightened slightly, shooting a smile at the doorway, presumably at the other man. "Well, I must be off. It's been so nice to have had a proper chat and finally meet the famous Winchester brothers. I must say, the two of you? I'm almost impressed. You're far, far more than you seem. But you're boring. You're on the side of the angels. Talking of angels, if you get this one safely out of the sigils, I'll let you keep him. If not, then I suppose you'll all die. And it'd be such a waste." With that, he turned sharply; heading up the staircase, and Dean suddenly had an odd image of him and the other man holding hands.

Dean snorted at that mental image, and smiled tightly after him, his words coming out heavy and measured. "Catch you later."

His voice called back, taking on a high, childish ring. "No you won't!" but Dean was already on top of Castiel, tugging at his shoulders, trying to get a response from him. "Cas? Cas!" Sam tugged him gently by the arm.

"Dean, I've seen something like this before. We have to be careful." Dean huffed in frustration, and took a step back, nodding at Sam to do whatever. His baby brother, as it turned out, had been reconstructing the similar version in his head, and planning out exactly how they should disassemble the web, one sigil at a time. He left Sam to get on with it, keeping his eyes on Cas the whole time.

It took an hour. In that time, Cas didn't even stir.

More worryingly, even after the entire web had been deconstructed, and every sigil was gone, after Dean had rushed to Castiel again and untied him, the angel still didn't respond.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment, aware that they needed to get out of there and preferably as soon as possible. Ignoring his brother's gaze, he pulled Castiel into his arms, swiping some sticky congealed blood from his cheek and smoothing his hair back, before he stood, clearing his throat and blushing faintly. "We should go."

Sam nodded his assent, and gestured for Dean to lead the way up the stairs, which he did, cradling Castiel against him.

By the time they made it outside, Dean's arms were screaming for mercy, and he sat down on the porch, balancing Castiel in his lap, and throwing his car keys to Sam with a smile. "You drive us back. I'll sit in the back with Sleeping Beauty." Sam grinned widely, but didn't say anything as he unlocked the car, and helped Dean get Castiel comfortable, before they both got in, Dean hesitating for a moment, before he tugged Castiel's head into his lap. "It'll help me keep an eye on him." He reasoned, more to defend his actions to Sam, than to convince himself, as he carded his fingers through Castiel's hair, matted and sticky with blood.

When they got back to the motel, Castiel hadn't stirred, but Dean wasn't particularly worried. Sam had said it would take a while for the sigils' power to wear off, and Sammy was always right. Dean simply sat with Castiel, who was laid out on one of the beds. He watched him carefully, and began to wash off some of the blood on his face and neck. It was the all he could do, and it stopped him from feeling completely useless.

It wasn't until, after two hours of restless waiting from Dean, when Sam's face began to grow pinched and his eyes were darting to Castiel's sleeping form more and more often, that he began to worry. Castiel wasn't awake, and surely he should be by now. He should be sitting up and healing himself and asking dumbass questions and Dean could hold him close for a moment and apologise.

He didn't wake up, and Dean knew he was driving Sam crazy, but he couldn't stop it, couldn't leave even though he knew he was about as useful as Garth right now. He huffed a soft sigh and, with a glance at Sam to check he wasn't looking at him, reached out and took Castiel's hand. He was surprised at the softness of the skin, and his thumb immediately began rubbing soft circles into the skin on the back of his hand.

Three hours later, after Sam had gone to bed, Dean still sat awake, watching Castiel carefully. That was when his injuries faded, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on the angel's hand tightening. "Cas?" He kept his voice low, to let Sam sleep, but was surprised by how hoarse and rough it was. He suddenly became aware of how stiff his cheeks were, and realised it was dried salt water. He'd been crying.

But disappointingly, Castiel still didn't wake. Dean frowned, his thoughts rushing anxiously through his head, crashing into each other. _He should be awake. If he's healing does that mean he'll wake up soon? Or is it a bad thing that he's healed but is still not awake? Cas, buddy, come on. I need you._

He pulled his hand back to wipe at his eyes, from which tears had begun to spill again, and then sucked in a shocked breath when he saw Castiel's twitch on the sheets.

He was gripping it between both of his in moments, studying Castiel's face for any traces of movement, and he felt the hand grip back, his heart beating wildly.

It was only ten minutes later that Castiel's eyelids fluttered open, but to Dean it could have been days. The angel's eyes looked blindly around in panic before they settled on him, and his heart ached for a moment, as his mouth worked for a moment.

"…Dean?"

Dean dropped Castiel's hand, clearing his throat for a moment, and looking away, aware of how he must look puffy red eyes and tears down his face. "Hey Cas. How're you feeling?"

Castiel smiled slightly, his eyes still trained on Dean's face. "Not good."

Dean chuckled softly at that, and looked at Castiel with what he knew was a ridiculously happy smile. "You had me worried there for a while."

Castiel frowned softly at Dean, and then looked at his hand, where it still lay limply on the sheets. "You were holding my hand." It wasn't a question, and Dean knew it.

He cleared his throat blushing slightly. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, it's just there was nothing I could do and I was going out of my mind and people say it's supposed to help or something-"

Dean was surprised when Castiel cut him off, looking earnestly at him, and holding out his hand. "It was nice."

Dean cleared his throat a couple of times and darted a suspicious look at Sam, before he took Castiel's hand with a soft smile, shifting to perch on the bed next to him. "Are you okay? I mean… what happened, man?"

Castiel looked at Dean with poorly concealed joy, gripping his hand slightly tighter, even as he frowned at the question. "I don't know. Whoever it was, they had an advanced knowledge of sigils, and exactly how to hurt an angel. The only others I have encountered with that knowledge were angels, so they must either be in league with them, or be very good at getting what they want."

Dean felt an odd flush of joy that Castiel counted the other angels as _'them' _and not _'us'_, but his heart twisted in his chest as his words also reminded him of the state Castiel had been in when they found him, and he felt the flicker of worry pass over his face.

"Dude, I'm sorry. I feel like crap, blaming you all this time for not coming to help. For not looking for you, or even realising you were missing. I'm sorry, man."

Castiel's face flickered, a regretful sadness taking over his features. "There is no need to blame yourself for this, Dean. Perhaps if I visited you more often, and did not have a history of ignoring your prayers for long periods, then you would not have assumed as you did. All I can say is that I am safe, and that we are all okay. That is what is important."

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he searched for a way to respond to that that wouldn't make him sound ridiculous. Fortunately, he was spared the trouble when his brother, king of timing, chose this moment to wake up. Sam sat up, and looked across at them. His gaze lingered on their hands, still joined even though Cas was awake, and Dean's perch on his bed. Dean blushed faintly, and stood, stretching. He avoided Sam's gaze as he made his way into the bathroom, able to feel his ears and neck burning.

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, the shine of tears and the redness still present in his eyes, showing his feelings too obviously, and decided to get in the shower.

After a while, the warm water began to soothe away the roil of emotions inside of him, and he slowly began to relax. This meant he immediately felt bad for being a dick to Castiel.

He heaved a sigh, and got out of the shower, drying himself off and dressing reluctantly. He paused for a moment, before he took a deep breath and made his way through the doorway.

He was almost disappointed to see that Sam wasn't there, but he'd probably gone to get food or something. Or just give them some space when Dean finally stopped being an idiot.

Dean huffed softly, and made his way over to the angel propped up against the pillows. "Dude… I didn't mean to freak out on you there."

Castiel frowned, his head tilting to the side in a way that Dean shouldn't have found so endearing, but had long since stopped questioning. "It's just… ah; I guess I felt like an idiot, man. You had me really worried."

Castiel offered a small smile of reassurance that did little for Dean's peace of mind. "I apologise for any distress I caused you, Dean. I am immensely touched by your concern for my wellbeing, and would like to thank you."

Dean laughed at that, at the angel's obvious worry about the way he had affected him. "Dude, seriously. It's not your fault."

Castiel smiled slightly at that, and his eyes brushed warmly over Dean's face. "Your brother spoke to me… about that."

Dean swallowed reflexively, his heart leaping into his throat. "What? You and Sammy had a big girly sleepover chat about your feelings?" He had glimpsed the look on Sam's face earlier, and he knew that Sam knew about what was going on with him. "Seriously. Forget about it. Sammy will be back with food soon, I'm sure."

Castiel inclined his head, content to let the subject drop for the moment, although Dean was sure he glimpsed a flicker of hurt. It would have been perfect, to tell Castiel how he felt, to close the gap between them and finally take something he wanted for himself.

But instead, he cleared his throat and pulled away. "Actually, man, I'm beat. So… uh." It wasn't a lie. After he'd stayed up all night watching Castiel, he was exhausted, and the adrenaline provided by the numbing fear that he would lose everything was waning now. But Castiel was in his bed, and he didn't want to use Sam's.

Fortunately, Castiel seemed to get the hint, and stood fluidly, looking down at himself for a moment to see his trench coat and shirt soaked through with his blood. He raised a hand, as if to clean it with his mojo, but then hesitated. "I think that I should shower, and find something else. These… clothes hold bad memories for me." Dean nodded dismissively, half asleep the second he slid under the still-warm covers, suddenly surrounded by the smell of Castiel. He buried his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply with a smile, and was out in moments.

Dean awoke a good two hours later, to blue eyes and an intense gaze paired with gruff commands for him to wake up. He mumbled a nearly incoherent protest, before he finally rolled over and sat up. It took everything he had not to gasp aloud when he laid eyes on his angel. He had showered, and his hair was sticking up in even more unruly tufts than usual. He looked much better not covered in blood, but none of these were the reasons for Dean's reaction. The angel had changed clothes, and was now wearing an old pair of Dean's jeans, slung low on his hips, and his ratty grey AC/DC shirt. It took all of Dean's crumbling self-control not to lurch over there and kiss him senseless.

"Cas."

Castiel smiled at him, and produced a plate of pie from seemingly nowhere with a soft smile, "It's apple."

Dean beamed, ignoring the slight flutter of his heart because this guy was _perfect_, and accepted the pie. As soon as his lips closed around the first bite, he knew he was done for. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned softly in elation, and he should probably be embarrassed by that but it _was that fucking good_.

He saw Castiel shift slightly out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly finished his pie with a wide grin. "Dude. That is the best pie I have ever tasted. Where the hell did you get it?"

Castiel looked down at that, swallowing slightly.

"That diner that we stopped in two months ago, in Illinois. You said the same thing back then."

Dean gaped for a moment, grinning lopsidedly at the angel. "Dude. You are _awesome_." He chuckled softly, and licked the fork he'd used clean. "Thanks, man."

He studied Castiel for a moment, noticing a slight sickly pallor to his skin, and he shifted over, lifting the covers on his bed. "C'mere, you gotta be tired." He made the offer without thinking, purely down to a sudden flash of concern for his friend's wellbeing and not a poorly-concealed desire to get the hot angel into his bed.

Castiel hesitated for a moment, before he sighed lightly, and slid into the space next to him, fitting against his side. It was surprising, really. Dean had half-expected Castiel to have cold skin, but he was warm and soft and utterly _human_ against him, and it hit him right then just how far gone he was on the angel.

He smirked, and pressed their legs fully together, because you might as well take what you can whilst it's on offer, and of course that was when his idiot brother with his bad timing had to walk in.

"Hey, Cas is Dean-" He broke off when he saw the two of them, who were practically curled up in bed together, and started _smirking_ of all things. "Oh. I guess he _is_ feeling better then."

Dean stood abruptly, blushing furiously and snapping back at his brother. "Shut the hell up, bitch. Look, we're both fully dressed." At his harsh reaction, he turned to register the hurt look on Castiel's face, which only served to add to the twisting of emotion in his gut, and fuel his anger with his guilt and self-loathing. _Why did he keep having to hurt him?_ He glowered, was about to leave, when he heard the _swoosh_ of feathers, and Cas was gone. "Shit!"

Anger deflated, he sat heavily back on his bed, and put his head in his hands. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and glanced up to see his brother's eyes looking mournfully down at him. "Dean, I know. God. It's so obvious I have no idea how Cas doesn't. But he's your friend, and you can't keep being a dick all the time. Well, more of a dick than usual."

Dean rolled his eyes in response and shoved at him with a hollow smirk. "Shut up, bitch."

At Sam's disapproving face, Dean sighed softly, the defensive anger- his façade- flooding out of him for a moment. "I know, Sammy. I'll make it up to him, I promise."

Sam sucked in a shocked breath, as if surprised that Dean was actually speaking about it; which made sense, to be honest.

Then Dean's mask slipped back into place, and he smirked up at his brother. "Dude, you've done the whole inter-species thing before. How does it work? I mean, what's the best way to start?"

Sam rolled his eyes in disgust, and Dean counted it as a victory.

Later that day, Dean left for a drive. His head was pounding, and he kept going over what he _should _have done. What he had wanted to do. He needed some fresh air, the purr of his baby and the passing of the road. Sam was back at the motel doing research, but the trail after Moriarty was cold and kept leading to dead ends, only highlighting how stupidly easy it had been before.

He happened to notice that he was driving over a bridge, and as there were no cars around, he pulled to a stop. Part of him was dazzled by the beauty of the wide river and low waterfalls below him, not really much more than the flow gushing over rocks that jutted up from its bed and it hit him that _this _was what it was all for.

But he'd saved the world, he'd done that. Surely he deserved his own life now?

The swirling blue beneath him put him in mind of wide eyes, a searching gaze and unruly dark hair, and he lifted his eyes to the roof of the Impala and prayed.

"Cas, man… I'm really sorry about earlier. I- I know I'm being a dick, and I'm sorry, okay? But please- could you come back? You've done your bit for Heaven and all, surely… I mean… I guess all I want to say is that I missed you when you weren't around, man."

He sighed at how… _chick flick_ his life had become, and pulled away, turning back when the road was wide enough and heading back for the motel.

When he let himself in, he forced a smile at Sam, and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on his bed.

It had been made, and at the bottom, neatly folded, was his old, ratty pair of jeans, and his grey AC/DC shirt. He looked over at Sam, aware that the tiny semblance of peace had drained from him in an instant. His breath flooded out of him, but he forced himself to walk over to the neatly folded clothes, and got as far as picking them up before he collapsed onto the mattress, raising his eyes to Sam.

"…Did you speak to him?"

Sam's eyes were soft and pitying. "Yes. He was… hurt, to say the least. I tried to get him to speak to you, but he feels that… you've made your intentions clear. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean sucked in a breath, and he hesitated, tempted to go to the bar and drown his feelings, but instead he reached for the beer that Sam now held out to him, dragged his shirt off and changed it for Cas' cast off (it smelt like him) and laid back on his bed. "Can you, ah, go and get Star Wars from the glove box?" He kept a store of his favourite films in his car, and it came in handy at times like this.

Sam, being the good, loving brother that he is, rolled his eyes, produced a bag of popcorn, and set another beer by Dean's side for when he'd finished this one, and returned with the original trilogy.

Six beers later, Dean was still miserable, and Sam had run out, so he curled up, still faintly smelling Cas, and cursed himself and his stupidity. He would make this right. If only Castiel would let him.

Sleep came quite easily for him, but if there was a wetness hanging at the corners of his eyes, it most certainly wasn't tears.

He awoke the next morning with a dry mouth, and a dull throbbing in his head. Scowling, he lurched into the bathroom, grabbing another shirt, surprised that the movement made the smell of the angel on his current one stronger. He had been about to throw the shirt and jeans into the laundry pile, but he folded them both and, poking his head around the door, slid them under his pillow. Cas might want them back when he returned and he should keep them safe. He made his way back into the bathroom, quickly showering, and brushing his teeth, to rid the foul taste from his mouth.

When he was finally done, he emerged from the bathroom to find his oversized brother with a steaming cup of black coffee, and a bagel. "Sorry, dude, they didn't have any pie."

Dean almost smiled at that. "You're too kind to me, Sammy, really."

His brother frowned in response, and Dean could feel the question as it built. "Dean, are you okay? You want to talk?"

Dean forced a laugh, but it sounded bitter and false, even to his own ears. "Yeah, I'd love that. We can talk, and I can cry on your shoulder and we can hug and everything will be okay."

He sighed at the look on his brother's face, and softened for once. "Sorry, Sammy. Look, I'm not okay. But if all goes according to plan, I can fix things. If not, I'm the one who screwed this up, Sam. It's my fault."

Dean busied himself with sipping his coffee, swallowing down a couple of Tylenol and taking a bite of his bagel, pulling a face, so he didn't have to reply.

Sam understood, and left him alone on the subject, as the he began to research, and Dean laid down and hoped to feel a bit better.

After about an hour of finding that not working for him, Dean huffed that he was going out for a drive, and he slid behind the wheel, feeling some of the tension flood out of him, some of the pain draining away as he was filled with the purr of the engine and the roll of the road beneath him.

After a while, as he was making his way along a dusty back road through the woods, he came across a small sign, old and weather-beaten, which read _'Brook's Studio'_, and a thought struck him, so he turned off and followed the narrow, overgrown track with a growing sense of trepidation.

When he finally reached the studio, little more than a cabin in the woods, he cautiously circled the perimeter, before he let himself in, curiosity getting the better of him.

Just as he was thinking he should text his brother and let him know what he was doing, he heard a crack, and felt a weight collide with the back of his skull, and the wooden cabin faded to black, and he just had time to think that this had very obviously been a trap.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay massively sorry for the wait (and length) but I got halfway through and lost it and it's been really hard to write an just sorry sorry sorry okay yes**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction. It is purely for entertainment purposes. And making me cry and want to tear my hair out at the roots, apparently.**

Dean came to in a shadowy cabin. Art pieces in various stages of completion stood against the walls, draped in sheets and covered with a thick coating of dust. He felt a slight pang of loss for Richard Brook, the innocent party in all this, before he pulled his mind back to his situation.

As the dull buzzing in the back of his head faded, he became aware that he was being physically restrained, his hands and ankles bound tightly to the chair on which he was sitting.

He twisted his head around, glad to find that he wasn't aching too severely anywhere and he had full movement there at least. Moriarty stepped out of the darkness, smiling sweetly.

"Good morning, darling. You took ever so long to wake up, I was worried Sebby had gone overboard."

If he focussed very hard on the shadows, Dean could just about make out the other man.

"So rude of me, I never introduced you two! This is Sebastian, and he is extraordinarily good at getting what he wants. His skills far surpass any I have encountered before. The closest any of my other pets come is actually his prodigy, Alistair; I believe you met him."

Dean couldn't help the slight shiver that ran through him at that name. After the thirty years that he had suffered under Alistair's treatment before he caved, could you blame him? The demon had haunted his nightmares for years, and in fact still did. If this creature had _taught_ him, then how much worse must he be?

"Seems like a swell guy, but you don't seem to have caught me at my most conversational, I'm afraid."

Moriarty chuckled softly and Dean shifted, feeling unsettled. This demon was unlike anything he had ever faced before. Probably because he was the most powerful. Which brought up the question… "Come on, tell me something. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?"

His question was met with a cold smirk and an appraising look. "You know what. Because I like you so much, I'll tell you. Since I first stepped foot on Earth, Winchester, I found I rather _like_ it here. There's so much misery and despair you can practically _taste _it. And then you get small communities like this- they're truly beautiful. Because the pain of one death, one missing person is amplified and felt so much more strongly by everyone. The small places are the best to upset because I get a much more delightful cocktail of emotions."

Dean looked at him agape for a moment, before he forced himself to get over it. The guy was _King of Hell_, he was bound to have some issues. And that was when he realised this was it. He was in, _so _over his head and there was nothing he could do. So he did what he always did when he was in trouble. He called for Castiel.

'_Cas. Please. I know I've been a dick. God help me do I know. But I will do everything I can to make it up to you. I won't get that chance if I die here and now so please, please help me.'_

Moriarty cocked his head to one side, his cold, dead eyes locking on Dean's. Boring into his soul.

"Like you. There's a gorgeous mix of fear, anger, desperation, and… hope? Oh I see. Do call your darling little angel. I have missed him so."

And that was when Dean realised his mistake. But it was too late, and is eyes flew to the sound of angel wings even as his heart lurched.

"Cas, _no_!"

But then, from the shadows, came the lightning quick flare of a match and the ring of holy oil caught, and his angel was trapped yet again. Because of Dean.

He found himself utterly unable to move, restrained by demonic forces- not even able to move his head now. He couldn't force a sound past his lips, but his eyes stayed fixed on Castiel, even as Moriarty's voice echoed around the room.

"Castiel, my angel. I meant what I was telling Dean. I have missed you- you were so entertaining."

Castiel glowered, and looked over at Dean for clarification.

Dean stared desperately at Castiel, struggling to say something, anything, even to _move _and he couldn't help the crawling fear that clawed its way out of his throat because this was Hell- trapped and unable to save someone you loved as they were tortured before you because he had no doubt that was what would happen.

Then Moriarty's soft tones started up again, and everything got worse as he turned to Dean and smiled fondly at him. "This silly human. They're so naive sometimes. All I had to was promise his freedom and Sam's immunity and he called you here almost without hesitation. And he actually believed he'd get it. I mean, you're his friend, of course. But he doesn't care about you as much as you do him. It's all about Sam. When you love one person with your whole heart, there can never be room for anyone else. You know this, Castiel. I can see it, I can feel it. How hopeless you feel. And… well, to be honest, I can't feel much from Dean directed at you."

Dean tried to scowl. To scream and swear and shout at the bastard, before he took a deep breath and prayed with all his might.

'_Cas. Fuck it, Cas don't you dare fucking listen to him. I didn't do this- not on purpose. Just- I'm so fucking sorry okay-'_

But Castiel's expression of hurt, acceptance and confusion didn't alter and Dean's heart broke as he realised that Castiel was listening and that he truly believe and felt all of the things the demon was spouting. Dean had felt something off about his prayer- it had felt woolly and soft. It had had no substance and had hit… a buffer of some kind.

Castiel hadn't heard him.

Dean fought with everything he had, but he couldn't do it. Couldn't move, couldn't speak. Could only feel the tear the slipped down his cheek. But now Castiel was looking at him. Looking at it as it reflected in the firelight and Dean could see the war that was raging internally.

And then his angel's shoulder's slumped, and when he looked at Moriarty all the fire and determination was gone from him, replaced with a hollow, bitter anger.

"I honestly doubt that. Are you sure he isn't disgusted by my very presence in this room? Maybe he is planning to mock me- to get my hopes up only to crush them all for some sick form of entertainment."

Dean felt like somebody had punched him in the gut, and he could feel more frustrated tears joining the others on his face but he was unable to do anything else, to defend his actions because _that wasn't what it was._

And then Moriarty's face lit up gleefully, and he smiled slightly. "I think Dean has something to say."

And he couldn't help the near-painful lurch in his chest as he built up to say something, before his heart stopped as he saw the hex bag land in front of him, and words spilled unbidden and unmeant from his lips.

"Can you really blame me, Castiel? You're clueless, you really are. You surely couldn't have trusted my actions- my intentions. I was half asleep and half-mad from the mind numbing boringness of constantly having to pretend I care. Plus, I hardly ever have time to go out any more and there's no denying you're hot. But God, Castiel. I could never feel anything more for you. You're nothing like me. You're only useful as a resource. I keep you around because you save my ass, you have done so many times, and not because _I love you._ How could I? You're not even human. You may have saved my brother but I will never forgive you for everything you've done both to him and to this whole goddamn planet. I still have to constantly fight the urge to just stab you in the heart. If anything, _angel_, I hate you."

Dean's head was spinning and he wanted to throw up, as his eyes flickered between Castiel, who flinched even at the use of his full name, whose eyes were wide with hurt and unshed tears, but also a heart breaking acceptance. Like he'd believed it all along, and the cold grin on Sebastian's face as he picked the words that would do the most damage.

He could hear his own voice echoing around the cabin, cruel and cold. And as he spat the words 'I love you' he couldn't help his heart shredding in two because this was so wrong and against everything he felt and that wasn't how he'd wanted Cas to first hear it from his lips.

And then the remaining fragments of Dean's heart turned to dust as he saw the tears rolling down Castiel's cheeks, his soft lips parting as if to reply, but too lost to even find words. Too taken in to try and find Dean. Too convinced to even defend himself.

Moriarty still didn't let up his control of Dean, his muscles were screaming from being locked in place for so long and the tears were starting to dry on his face.

He felt hollow and empty and there was nothing he could do to fix it after that. If he thought he'd ruined everything before, he sure as hell had now.

Time passed achingly slowly for Dean, suspended there. Unable to move, to talk, even to think because it hurt too much.

He kept battering at the walls around his head that were stopping his prayers, even after he began to feel blood trickling out of his nose. He kept going until his vision blurred and went black.

At least when he was unconscious he didn't have to watch Castiel try not to fall apart.

He spent so long exhausted after his efforts, drifting in and out of consciousness, desperate for any kind of relief from this. At some point he was untied. Not like he needed them anymore. The time stretched and blurred around him, and he started to wonder about Sam. Knowing Cas, he'd probably have let him know where Dean was before he came. His little brother was probably hoping to give them some time, but he'd be on his way soon enough if they didn't show. Probably.

Dean tried not to think about Castiel. He really did. But it was impossible. Moriarty and Sebastian stayed there, silently.

This was their torture.

As the hours ticked by, Dean ached and he hurt and he felt more hopelessly shattered beyond repair, pushed to a point no physical pain could ever have gotten him to.

And then Moriarty smiled over at him, and stepped into the fire with Castiel. Dean's stomach lurched, and a sick feeling curled around him as Moriarty reached down to Castiel.

He felt slightly vindicated when his angel put up a fight, his fists lashing out with pure hatred.

He felt less so when he started losing.

Moriarty held him over the fire, at the very outside of the circle, and he could see the demon's eyes on him.

"Now remember what happens to an angel when they cross the holy fire?"

Dean's heart stopped, and he knew that Moriarty would do it. He would kill Castiel in front of him and then when Sam showed up to save him he would torture and kill him too, probably get Dean to say something crushing. And then he'd leave Dean until he'd fed enough off of his emotions, and he'd kill him too.

So when his actions were distracted, Dean fought harder than he ever had before, fuelled by desperation, anger, and love. And he finally struggled to his feet, in time to see Moriarty wink his way and the flames sputtered out. Castiel looked at him for a long moment, and Dean tried to speak, but the hold had tightened on him again and he couldn't move.

Then, with a flap of wings, Castiel was gone and Dean collapsed to the floor, finally free. When it was too late to do anything about it.

He was dizzy and shaky as the circulation flowed back to everywhere and his muscles ached and burned.

He could hardly process the fact that Castiel had just left him there when Moriarty made his way over to his side and took a deep inhale. "Mmmm. Just wonderful. I'm going to take you back to Sammy now. Tell him about this if you want. But understand this, Dean. This is just the beginning. You'll be hearing from me."

And then he was out of the cabin, blinking dazedly because _it was mid-afternoon_ and he'd been gone for over a day.

He was weak with hunger and dizzy and shaky and then he was behind the wheel of his (thankfully, unharmed) baby and driving back to the motel. Not before he'd pulled over at the side of the road and cried and screamed his laments at the steering wheel until his face was dry and itchy and his throat was sore.

After that he forced himself to stop at a gas station and fill her up, and pick up something to eat, but it passed by in a blur.

He wasn't ready to face praying to Castiel yet.

He didn't think he could cope with his silence.

When he got back to the motel and staggered into their room, Sam's expression flitted from quietly happy to horrified in two seconds flat.

"Where's Cas?"

Dean couldn't help himself flinching. "Long gone, Sammy. I'd be surprised if we ever see him again." He was ashamed in the thickness of tears and shake in his voice that had been cause by the very mention of his name.

He slammed the door shut behind him and he forced himself to get face down on his bed before he started crying.

Sam let him have half an hour before he sat down next to him and forced him to sit up, wiping the dried blood and tears from his face and forcing him to drink some water.

"What happened, Dean? I've never seen you like this before, so don't you dare try and pass this off as nothing."

Then Dean surprised both of them and crumpled against Sam, whose arms wrapped comfortingly around him as he mumbled what had happened into the warmth and acceptance that he had come to associate with his little brother.

When he'd finished (which had taken a while, he had difficulty talking about what he'd been forced to say) Sam only pulled him closer and it was then that Dean hugged him back desperately.

"It was horrible, Sam. I was so scared, and he was… so broken. What should I do? I gotta talk to him. I have to try, Sammy. I have to fix this because _God_, I love him."

Sam's eyes softened. "I know it's hard, Dean, but you're going to have to keep trying. Just pray as often as you can. He'll hear you. I'll try too. Give it a week, and we'll summon him. Okay?"

Dean nodded, glad Sam wasn't suggesting summoning him straight away because he wanted to give Castiel the chance to make the choice. "He… the look on his face when I called him 'Castiel'." Dean was quite proud that his voice only shook a little.

Sam pulled back, and smiled sadly. "I know, Dean. Go to bed, you must be exhausted. Pray. He just needs to listen."

"I'm afraid that he doesn't want to." Dean wiped away the last traces of his outburst, determined not to let it happen ever again, and crawled into Cas' top, which magically still smelt like him, as did his bed. He curled up under the comforter suddenly unable to sleep splayed out and before he drifted off he sent a prayer.

'_I'm sorry, Cas. That wasn't intentional. None of that was true, you should know how much you mean to me. I miss you already. Please come back.'_

Dean slept surprisingly well, and when he awoke in the afternoon, he chased away dreams involving feathers, blue eyes and a gruff 'I love you'. Which was disturbingly different to his usual dreams which just involved him, the angel, and perfect apple pie filling.

Sam was sat in front of his laptop, typing furiously, and Dean sighed, turning his eyes Heavenwards.

'_Cas. I see you're still not here. None of that was true, I swear it to you. I don't know what else to say… well, I guess I do… I'm just… Cas, I'm scared, okay? And I need to tell you this to your face.'_

He spent the rest of the day throwing himself into pointless, dead-end research, sending Castiel stupid thoughts every five minutes. _'I miss you' _or _'I'm wearing your shirt because it smells like you'_ or _'Sam's driving me insane, come save me?'_ But, unsurprisingly, he didn't get an angelic rescue.

When it came to the evening he didn't allow himself more than two beers because he knew the amount of alcohol needed to drown emotions he felt this strongly would result in him getting his stomach pumped.

He watched Star Wars again.

Sam didn't complain when, halfway through, he crawled onto his brother's bed and leant against him because he felt alone.

'_Cas, look at me. I'm a mess. I'm not even drunk and I'm cuddling up to Sam. Just… what can I say? What I went through… what they forced me to say… it was a fucking hex bag, man. I don't think any of that, okay? That was worse than Hell. Watching me do that to you. Watching the look on your face. That was torture of the most awful kind. And I hate myself for it.'_

When the films were done, Dean settled into his bed, curling around the pillow that somehow still smelt like Cas.

He was grateful to Sam for not mentioning it when he cried himself to sleep.

Again, he slept peacefully, but this time he awoke to the sound of angel wings, and started upright like a shot, only to see Sam staring at an empty space.

"…Cas?" He hated the croaky, overly hopeful sound of his own voice, and the stiff, scratchy feeling of his face from the salt.

Sam nodded slowly, as if expecting anger, but Dean's shoulders simply slumped. "He was here."

Sam looked away. "He, uh, said not to worry about Moriarty. He said that he's… more than you could handle and you should take a step back from this one. I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "I guess he's right. I mean, I'm clearly not at my best and if Cas doesn't think I can handle it then I'm sure he's right. I'm not good enough to stop this."

Sam's forehead creased in concern, and Dean held a hand up to him, desperate to speak to his angel. _'Looks like I missed you. Sorry, I was sleeping off last night. Star Wars marathons are what I do when I feel like shit. Guess I can't do anything right, huh?'_

He forced a smile at his brother. "We're running outta cash. Wanna head to a nearby town and hustle some pool? Can't really stick around here to do it since we're staying a while, right?"

He pulled an epic bitch face in response, and flipped his hair dramatically, but didn't say anything and Dean felt almost like he could pretend to be whole.

They didn't stay at the bar long. Dean had intended to drown his sorrows and maybe flirt until he felt better, but every single person he looked at was very… not Castiel. His hair wasn't dark enough. Her eyes were the wrong blue. His voice was wrong.

After two beers Dean felt so much worse that he went home, tears springing into his eyes as he curled up with the pillow again. _'Look at that, Cas. You've ruined everyone else for me. I need you. Please.'_

A week had passed, slowly and painfully. Dean was stretched out listlessly on his motel bed, tracing the cracks in the plaster of the ceiling with his eyes. He'd prayed to Castiel at least three times a day, but neither he or Sam had seen him since, although Dean woke up more than once with the flap of wings ringing in his ears, but passed it off as part of his dreaming.

'_Cas. When did it get to this, huh? I was certain you'd have shown by now. Or at least convincing myself I was. I miss you so much lately I can hardly see straight and suddenly it's like I can't live without you. What Moriarty said about being unable to have room for anyone else? Bullshit. You balance me out, Cas. You're everything I'm not- good, kind, adorable, and clever. I need you with me. It's like Sam is my head and you're my heart. I need both of them to survive, one on its own won't cut it. I'm existing without you, but I'm not living. Not even close. So this is it. One last call before we summon you. There are three words I desperately want to tell you, but I can't do it like this.'_

Sam and Dean looked over the array of equipment they had, sigils already drawn out, minerals already ground up, before Dean handed the ritual to Sam; His voice was shaking too much for him to do it.

Sam's voice sounded out in sharp, broken Enochian around the room as Dean dropped the match into the pestle and mortar of everything they needed and it lit up with a blue flash.

The room was oppressively quiet as they waited for him to show, both of them with bated breath awaiting the whoosh of feathers and the flick of a trench coat.

Castiel finally appeared in the room, and Dean reached for him immediately, but Castiel's eyes lighted on him then skipped away and he tensed to leave.

Dean sucked in a sick breath, before Sam held a match to the holy oil, trapping both of them in the circle of fire.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Cas, but you weren't answering any of my calls."

And Castiel turned to Dean with a look of such ice-cold hatred that Dean pulled back. He'd never seen those eyes so harsh, not when focussed on him. "…Cas?"

Castiel shifted so he was as far away from Dean as he could possibly be, and his reply was dull and void of emotion, other than anger. "Did you not think for a _moment_ that maybe I didn't 'reply to your calls' because I don't ever want to hear from you again? I can't stand the sight of you, Dean. No matter what you say, you can't fake feelings like that with a hex bag, and I felt them, distorted though my power was."

Dean sucked in a broken breath and shook his head, willing his eyes not to fill with tears. "I was angry and disgusted, yes. I felt utter, blinding hatred, yes. But that was directed at Moriarty for doing it, at me for letting it fucking happen to you, Cas. Don't you dare even think that one second of that was real."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "And why didn't you get through to me then? Why didn't you pray like the endless, dull updates about your boring, useless life I receive constantly now?"

Dean ignored the sting and hissed his response. "Sorry, did you _miss_ the blood fucking pouring down my face? I couldn't pray to you, not for want of trying, but for lack of ability. I damn-near gave myself a fucking aneurysm trying to pray to you and I kept going through the pain _until I passed out_. But in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a tiny, _useless_ human against the King of Hell! I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I could only watch as you suffered and gave up your trust in me so easily and then as soon as the fire was out _you left me there with him. _A demon that wanted to kill me. Sorry if I'm a little hurt as well."

Castiel shook his head, swallowing hard. "Dean, no. that's not- no. Please tell me that isn't what…" He looked over at Sam, who nodded grimly as Castiel sighed, a weary sadness filling his features that Dean didn't trust completely. "I'm not going anywhere, you can kill the fire."

Sam threw some water over the fire and the two waited as it hissed out, before Castiel turned suddenly-cold eyes on Dean. "I can't believe you fell for that, Dean. And for the record, I couldn't care less about you, or your brother. Oddly enough, as an Angel of the Lord, I have better things to do that run around after you. Keep yourselves out of the way because I _don't_ want to have to clear up your mess. Don't pray to me again."

And with that, he was gone, a swoosh of feathers leaving Dean dumbstruck, gaping at his brother, who looked agelessly sad, as he silently got his and Dean's jackets.

"Come on, let's go out somewhere."

That was how Dean ended back at the pub, sprawled dejectedly over the bar next to Sam, who had the keys to the Impala, but listened as he poured his heart out, the anger that was now burning alongside guilt, sadness and self-loathing.

"Sam, I did that to him. I don't know what the fuck has happened to him, but if I had just… stopped and said 'Hey, Cas! I'm kind of a little bit in love with you' none of this would have happened. But now… I mean, he was just _so angry._ I've never seen him that harsh before, not even when he went God, not even at the very start. And I don't want to- I _can't_ lose him. I prayed to him before, I said that it's like you're my brain and he's my heart and I need both of you to live. I meant that, Sammy. I can't do this without him."

Sam's face twisted angrily, and he laid a hand on Dean's arm. "I don't know what's going on either, Dean. But I swear to you, I am never going to be able to forgive him for this. I don't care what his reasons are."

Dean smiled sloppily at Sam and wrapped his arms around his brother. "I love you, man. You're a _great_ bro. I'm still going to pray though. I gotta."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean chuckled softly against his arm and stood, taking care to steady Dean. "Come on, we should get back, you're wasted."

Dean found that hilarious, as he did Sam's face as he helped him back into the Impala until he passed out in the backseat.

_Dean was in the barn, where he first saw Castiel. The angel was standing opposite him and looking forlorn. "Dean. I'm sorry I- My emotions are a mess, currently. I said those things out of anger, I- I've never felt that so strongly before. Please understand me when I say that this was never what I wanted for us."_

_Dean shook his head, his jaw setting angrily. "What __**did**__ you want, Cas? Because that can still happen. Just come back." And then, because this was just a dream, he wrapped his arms around Castiel, and kissed every trace of sadness off his face. "I meant everything, man. I need you."_

_And then Castiel shifted, into that cold and harsh being they'd trapped in the fire, and pushed him away, stumbling back with disgust on his face._

"_What so you expect me to say? I need you too? You're nothing to me, Dean. Not anymore."_

_And he left then, a flap of wings and a slight singed smell lingering, leaving Dean alone to curl up on the floor, his knees hugging his chest._

Dean shot upright with a gasp, sweat beading on his forehead and a familiar hollow ache filling his chest. He forced himself up and into the bathroom, running through the motions of showering even as he slipped into a blank state.

'_Cas. I've had a couple nightmares now. What can I say? I miss you. I fucked everything up. Completely. And I'm sorry. But I'm not the only one at fault here. At least tell me you're making headway on Moriarty? I give it about a week before me and Sammy are back on this.'_

The time passed slowly for Dean, he was still struggling with everything, and both him and Sam continued researching anything to help them in the Moriarty case because _no way_ were they going to give this up. Not after everything he'd destroyed.

A week passed in much the same vein, until Dean finally found it in himself to go to the bar, and have a few rounds. His eyes caught on potential partners, and a blonde, very gorgeous, very busty chick sat next to him and flirted and was very clearly interested, but at the end of the night Dean left drunk but with only a phone number.

He pretended he couldn't see his brother's disapproving scowl as he stumbled into bed when he got back.

He still found himself reaching for that AC/DC top, and burying his face in the soft grey fabric, curling around a pillow and trying to pretend it didn't hurt so much.

What he missed was the angel standing invisible in the corner, with ageless, sad blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Ugh I'm an awful person send me all the hate I'm so fucking sorry omg. I literally have no excuse for this like I have arranged and done pieces for a charity art exhibition but I should still have been writing. Trigger warnings: Abuse of our baby angel (I'm sorry!)**

**This chapter is partly in Cas' POV which is surprisingly hard to write. I'm sorry if this chapter upsets y'all.**

**Disclaimer: Characters (sadly) not mine yadda yadda yadda**

Castiel stayed, invisible to his human charges, his eyes sad and his heart aching as he watched Dean suffer, because of him.

He stayed an invisible presence for them over the next months, shocked that Dean wasn't _getting over it._ He hardly moved, hardly ate, just stayed curled up in motel beds, or the passenger seat of the Impala. He didn't drive anymore, drank a lot, but the worst thing was the dead, cold, empty look in his eyes.

The strain was getting to Sam, Castiel knew, and his prayers were getting more and more desperate as Dean's slowed and eventually stopped.

But the whole time, Castiel saw dark fleeting shadows at the edges of his vision, knew Moriarty had demons watching him.

As much as he wanted to reach out to the brothers, he couldn't. He had no choice.

Three months after the incident, Castiel watched Dean drink himself to sleep. He saw Sam make his way over and tuck Dean into bed, sweeping a hand across his face before the younger Winchester swallowed and sat down on his own bed, blinking back hot, angry tears.

'_Castiel, you bastard. You can't keep doing this to him. Please. Just talk to him. Dean- he can't keep going like this, he __**needs**__ you.' _

Sam's voice was shaking, and the pain in the prayer was so raw that Castiel snapped.

He snapped into visibility with tears in his eyes, to a shocked gasp from Sam, and then he was being slammed back against the wall.

He let it happen.

"What the fuck, Cas? Look at him, _look at Dean._ This is what you've done, you fucking son of a bitch!"

Castiel swallowed back a sob, Sam's words hissed into his ear with so much anger. It was twisting the knife.

The impact had woken Dean who blinked wearily up at him, before his eyes sparked with something and he sat up. "…Cas?"

Castiel pulled out of Sam's grasp and made his way slowly over to Dean, his throat choking up as he laid a hand hesitantly on Dean's arm. "I can't stay long. I- God, I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so so sorry. But Moriarty, he- this is all part of his plan. He's feeding off the emotional turmoil of both of us. He told me that if I contacted you in any way, he would have you killed. I bargained for the chance to say goodbye to Sam. When you summoned me- he was so close to killing you, Dean. I had to leave had to stop you from trying to talk to me. I shouldn't even be here now but I've been… I couldn't just leave you and I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so so sorry."

Dean let out a soft sound at the tears in the angel's eyes and the obvious distress in his voice, and he pulled him into a hug.

"Cas, it's gonna be fine. I don't- that shit hurt, of course it did, but we're gonna win this. We _are._"

As he finished those words, the motel light started to flicker and Castiel sucked in a breath, standing in front of Dean as the room began to shake. He grabbed the hunter's hand, and locked worried, scared eyes on him.

He was flashed a confident smirk in return.

The motel door slammed open, flying right off its hinges and Moriarty strolled in, a mildly displeased expression on his face. "Castiel, darling, you _have _let me down. I mean, I suppose I knew it would happen soon, but you've gone against me, and you _know _what that means."

Castiel took a step closer to him, a possessive righteous anger flooding through him. This wasn't fair. Dean didn't deserve to die, Sam didn't deserve to lose him. They fought and they fought for things to turn out right, to save this God-forsaken planet and all they ever got was more pain. They lost everybody they loved and the world just kept throwing problem after problem at the Winchester boys.

"You will _not_ hurt Dean."

Moriarty flashed a smooth smile at him, and rolled his neck, a spark of something in his eyes. "I won't? _Really_? Well, this is a turn up. How, pray tell, are you going to stop me?"

Castiel smiled thinly at him. "You can have me. You feed off emotions, correct? Well then I must be the best there is around. An _angel_ with feelings. You take me, you keep me apart from Dean, and there will be so much to offer you, pain, anger, self-loathing. And if you keep him alive, there will be so much _more._ As long as Dean's alive, I'll always feel hope, some measure of happiness. Love."

Castiel heard Dean's soft gasp, and he squeezed his hand before he pulled away completely, offering himself up to the demon.

Moriarty stepped back, sniffing the air appraisingly before he jerked his head in acquiescence. "You never fail to both surprise and amuse me, Cassie. That's a tempting offer. But you're correct. And because I like you, I'll do it. The Winchester boys go free and I get my own little angel on a leash."

Castiel inclined his head, and that was when all hell broke loose.

"Fuck! Cas, no, don't you dare do this! I'm- I'm not worth this, Cas, please." Dean was shouting, his hands curling into the fabric Castiel's trench coat.

Castiel gently pulled out of his grip, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Don't you ever say that, Dean. You're worth everything to me. Have a nice life."

He should say it, it was his last chance, but he couldn't. he didn't want to acknowledge what could have been.

Dean groaned and pulled him into a furious, desperate kiss, tears spilling from his eyes. They were so alive again, dancing with fury and pain and love and Castiel could hardly bear it.

"Don't go, Cas. I love you, please don't do this."

Castiel leaned into him, returning the kiss for a moment before he pulled back. "I love you too, Dean. More than anything. And that's why I have to."

He knew they would be difficult about this, could see Sam, his friend, gearing up to say something himself. And he couldn't, he just couldn't bear to see this, so he pressed two fingers to their foreheads in turn and laid them back on their respective beds before he turned to Moriarty. "It is done. You now own an angel."

The demon grinned and clapped his hands and the two of them were gone from the room, the two hunters looking almost peaceful, unaware of the pain that was still to come.

Dean awoke, shooting straight upright and looking around wildly. He swore as he remembered Castiel reaching for him, and rubbed a palm across his face, before looking over at his brother.

Sam was sitting up too, and he winced a little, his eyes turning sad and sympathetic as he looked at Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean let out a bitter chuckle. "S'not like it's your fault." He ran a hand through his hair, and nodded at the laptop. "Come on, let's get to work."

Sam frowned. "I- what?"

Dean growled his response. "A case. We have a case. Free Cas. Don't you dare say anything. We fucking beat Satan. We can find a way to help our friend."

Sam simply nodded and reached for his laptop.

Together, they set to work.

The next months were long and tiring for Dean, and he searched and typed and travelled. He finally returned to the Men of Letters bunker and went page-by-page through every book they had. He drank and ate and existed mechanically because all he had left for himself was _finding Cas._

He called Charlie and Garth and Kevin and at one point even Krissy in his desperate search for answers or sightings.

His painstaking research was interrupted by a soft inhalation from Sam, and looked up to find his brother's eyes wide with… revelation?

"What you got, Sammy?"

Sam frowned, a soft smile twitching the corners of his lips. "So, I found a spell that will, quote, 'Send the route and ruler of all of hell back to his domain for all of eternity'- we can't kill the son of a bitch but we can trap him in hell for good."

Dean nodded a little, forehead wrinkling. "Okay. Sounds good. So… what does it need?"

Sam scowled at the computer. "Well, apparently, it needs the blood of three who have sacrificed everything, along with some complex Latin and Enochian incantions. We also need deadly nightshade from a north-facing cemetery, graveyard dirt, coffin nails, sulphur chips, black salt, goofer dust, ammonia, ground basilisk fang and the heart of a snake."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ingredients are fucking weird. I guess that three will be us then. We need to get this shit together, you print the incantation and then we have to find Cas. Once we find him, we'll do this, send that bastard back to hell and we're home free."

Sam nodded and Dean grinned. They had a plan.

He was going to see Cas again.

Castiel curled up on the floor of his cell. The darkness was overwhelming, pervading his every sense and pressing on his mind, only broken by the hole in the ceiling for the fan, spinning in lazy circles that infuriated him. He'd been here alone for months, maybe more. Just thinking. Feeling.

He knew exactly where he was, and Moriarty must be enjoying himself because he was being kept in the panic room at Bobby's house.

He felt a slight tug on his mentality- the demon was unable to physically enter the room, which should have been comforting but it only made him more isolated. More alone.

He opened the door with a flick of his wrist, staying curled where he was. Moriarty smirked down at him. "My good boy. My good little pet. The training has worked well."

Castiel remembered the training. Moriarty had put a collar on him and grinned before he let Sebastian do whatever he wanted. It had taken a long time to break the angel, and tactics that he didn't wish to dwell on. When it was finished, he'd been shut in here, given a chain and told to attach to a hook on the floor and the other end to his collar.

He'd done it.

The demons thought they owned him, thought they'd broken him and that he obeyed their every command because it was all he knew.

They were wrong, they knew nothing of him, or of Dean. There was a spark of hope buried deep in his chest. He obeyed because it was easier. But Dean would come for him eventually.

He heard a scream from outside and the door to the panic room slammed open. There, on the other side, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily, was Dean. He was free.

Dean beckoned him over, and he crawled to the doorway, thinking it odd that Dean didn't come in and free him, but doing what he said anyway. "Hello, Dean."

The other knelt down, brushing fingers over his cheek and leaning into him. "We've got a while. Sam's taking care of the others, and I asked him to give us some time."

Castiel made a soft questioning noise, then backed up as Dean indicated for him to. His hunter stepped inside then smirked down at him. "Look at you, Cas. All tied up for me. My little bitch."

Castiel found Dean's behaviour odd, but he couldn't focus on that. Dean was here, and he could see a spark of lust in his eyes. Lust for _him._ He simply nodded and dropped his head.

Dean crouched next to him again, and ran a finger over the collar on his neck. "Have you missed me, Cas? Do you want to show me how much?"

The hunter pressed his lips against Castiel's, soft and warm and everything he'd wanted and missed and he just wished Dean had unchained him first. It got wetter and hotter and dirtier and Dean was pressed against him, their hips grinding together, slow and hot. He felt the nip of teeth against his lip, but then it was hard, too hard and he cried out. He tried to pull back but Dean's hands were in his hair, holding him and he could taste blood, he was choking on it. He couldn't pull back and he couldn't breathe and he realised then and there that everything about Dean was wrong, that he couldn't feel his soul.

And then 'Dean' was on the other side of the room, Castiel breathing hard and glowering at him. "Fuck you."

The bastard grinned back at him and his reply was so Dean, at the same time as not, it made his heart ache. "Would you like to?" and then, with a wink, he was gone and Moriarty was in the doorway.

"You like my little trick? Nothing more than a sensory illusion that I was able to string and thread together from that little seed of _hope_ in your heart. So, technically, none of that just happened. But you saw and felt it all. You see, you need to be trained out of the idea that Dean is going to come and find you. You need to lose every drop of hope and be drowned in nothing but despair, ready for when I bring him here and torture and kill him in front of you. Consider this step one, darling."

Castiel moaned brokenly into the floor as he left and the door slammed shut, and he was unable to will his erection away.

He stroked himself roughly, not allowing himself to dwell on the sensation, and when he finally came it was with a soft whimper of Dean's name.

He collapsed against the wall and allowed himself to cry as he lay in the dark, the flicker from the fan above him hardly bothering him at all as he prayed silently to a God he thought he'd lost faith in.

Finally, a year since Dean lost Cas, he had to admit defeat. He couldn't find a trace of the angel anywhere. But there was one thing he needed to do. "Sammy, I need a break from this. I'm gonna… uh, head to Bobby's. there's some stuff that needs taking care of."

As soon as Sam began to protest, Dean held up a hand. "You stay. Someone needs to keep looking, and this is something I gotta do on my own. I'll be gone a few weeks at most."

Sam pursed his lips and threw him bitch face #9 'I Don't Think This Is A Good Idea' as Dean grabbed his already packed duffel, before he sighed and nodded. "Fine. But call me as often as possible, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes and walked out of the motel with a muttered "Sure thing, you mopey girl." thrown over his shoulder.

His mood improved a fraction the second he slid behind the wheel of his baby. He even went so far as to put some Kansas on and after a few miles he cheered up enough to hum quietly along to the tracks.

He reached Sioux Falls about four hours later, by which point he had relaxed marginally. As he pulled into the salvage yard he felt a pang in his heart at the state of it- trees and plants were slowly taking over, growing around the slowly rusting cars.

Dean scanned his eyes over Bobby's prized Chevelle and decided he was going to fix her up and give her to Sam.

He hesitantly made his way towards the burnt-out shell of the building, aware that the panic room would still be intact. He knew Bobby kept a copy of all his books and journals down there on a memory stick, after a lot of whining and complaining from Sam, and it was one of his last shots at finding Cas.

He froze when he heard a noise, and picked his way through the wreckage of the house to get to the source. It was probably a frightened cat or animal, but Dean knew better than to pass stuff off. He reached the door to the panic room, stunned to see fresh scrapes in the soot on the floor. Someone, or some_thing_, had been here. Reassuring himself with the knowledge that the panic room was a safe place, he let himself in.

The door grated noisily as he opened it, and he froze to see Cas, his baby _Cas_, chained to the floor in the centre of the room. He was at his side in an instant, his hands scrambling at the collar and freeing Castiel, but his throat was choked and he couldn't find words.

The angel began to struggle in his grip, tears leaking from his eyes and muttering soft, broken words as he tried to weakly push him away. He tried to sooth him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close but it wasn't helping at all.

He had to get out, and fast, but with Castiel in this state, they weren't going anywhere. He pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Sam, his fingers clumsy on the keys.

**Holy fuck. Found Cas in the panic room at Bobby's. Bring stuff for spell and fast.**

He didn't wait for a reply, slamming the door shut and curling around the still sobbing Cas. His voice was a little stronger now, Dean could pick out some of what he was saying. "Not real, you're not real. You're going to turn, like they did, you're going to hurt me…"

Dean frowned at that, pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Shhh, Cas, baby. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be just fine. I'm here, I've got you."

Cas jolted, looking up at Dean with wide, tear-red eyes. "I- you… I never quite got your voice right. Is that… you're here."

And then fear flooded through his eyes and he pulled back. "No, no, no, no, you _can't_ be here you have to leave. He knows, he knows, and he's going to kill you."

Dean caught Cas' arm. "Cas. Listen to me. You're safe, you're okay. We both are. They can't get in. Sam's coming with the stuff for a spell we found that will send the bastard back to Hell for good."

Castiel let out a shuddering breath, before he curled gratefully against Dean.

Not long after, Cas fell into an uneasy sleep against Dean's chest. He held him close, running a soothing hand through his angel's hair.

Sam turned up hours later, and he quickly let himself in, freezing a little when he saw Dean and Cas. He dumped the spell ingredients down in front of him and paused. "It says the blood of three who have sacrificed everything, and I hate to say this, but we really haven't. We've lost a lot, but we still have a lot, too."

Dean cleared his throat in response, and looked down. "Yeah, I was thinking about that, and- well… if I died… you and Cas would both lose me, and I'd lose you both. We all lose things that matter greatly to us."

Sam gaped at him, aghast. "No, Dean! That's ridiculous. We- no. you're not dying!"

Dean shifted Cas in his arms and looked sadly at him. "What other choice do we have?"

Sam's gaze softened. "Do you- can you really do that to him? To me?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm doing this _for_ him, Sammy. For both of you."

Sam shook his head, eyes refusing to consider the proposal but also recognising the stubborn set of his brother's jaw.

"No, Dean. We'll find another way. Hell, we've sacrificed a lot."

Dean nodded and smiled and agreed, but he held Cas a little closer because he _needed_ to do this. And he would.

When Castiel's eyes blinked blearily open, he registered the soft warmth of Dean beneath him and smiled. "You're still here." Dean's arms tightened around him, and he felt his body tense. A soft kiss was pressed to his temple, and then soft broken words murmured into his ear.

"Cas. I'm so sorry, for everything. I missed you, so, so much. And I feel terrible that I have to do this for the spell." At those words, Cas' tensed in apprehension and looked up at Dean, only for his lips to be met with Dean's. The kiss was harsh and desperate, and it scared Cas because he didn't know what was happening and this all felt _wrong._

Then Dean was pulling back and accepting a knife from Sam along with a silver chalice, positioning the blade against his arm with a sad smile at Cas.

And then he was whispering a rough, shattered "I love you." at Cas and lifting the knife, slicing it across his neck and Cas was numb, numb and frozen as he watched the life seep out of Dean. His trance was broken at a shattered cry from Sam and then he was moving, cradling Dean in his lap and trying to heal, to save, but it was too late and Dean was _gone._

He couldn't move from Dean's side, Sam crouched next to him and he didn't know how long passed before they pulled themselves together. Then Sam sat up and took the knife sweeping it across his forearm and then Cas' and adding their blood to the chalice. It blurred for him after that, mixing and chanting and then there was a flash and a scream, but he was just curled numbly on his side because he'd _waited too long and the life had died from Dean's eyes._

Sam moved over to him, forehead creasing. "Is Dean… can you bring him back?"

Castiel felt his tears spill over as he responded. "I- his soul has left his body, and gone to Heaven. All I am able to do currently is bring his physical body back."

Sam frowned. "He'd be soulless? Can you… do it anyway? I mean, we need to keep him until you get his soul back."

Cas pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder, trying to hold in the sobs. "I- I can try."

He focussed his Grace, and Dean's eyes snapped open, but they were cold and empty. "Dean?"

And then Dean smiled, and it sent shivers down the angel's spine because it was so _wrong_, and there was nothing of the man he loved there. But still, the words spilled unbidden from his lips, a delayed response from earlier. "I love you too."

Dean's mouth twisted, cold and cruel and he cocked his head to one side. "Hmm. Well, I guess that's interesting. I don't seem to love you, though. I'm afraid."

Cas took a deep breath, and vowed to bring Dean back, no matter what. He knew soulless Dean would be a long, tenuous and painful experience for him.

He vowed he would make it right, even as the tears slid down his cheeks.


End file.
